


Imperfect Faith

by Madame_Tentacle



Series: Thy Ransom [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Backstory, Brainwashing, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Religion, Starvation, religious rambles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-11-10 01:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Tentacle/pseuds/Madame_Tentacle
Summary: When her mother is arrested on Lydia Degan's ranch, a young Marta finds herself amidst the Testament of New Ezekiel in its infancy.  As she travels with the other escapees, she watches the church grow, the gospel teachings evolve, and creates a close bond with the reverend Sullivan Knoth.





	1. September 21, 1968

The last Marta saw of her mother was through the window of the police car.

She never once took her eyes off Marta. Not even when the cops cuffed her hands, and threw her into the car. She cried out Marta’s name so loud that the child could hear her through the glass.

Marta took a step towards her, when someone grabbed her hand. She looked up and recognized the good Reverend Knoth.

“We’re all meeting behind the big barn,” he told her. Amidst the chaos, his expression remained calm. “There’s an exit there that the cops didn’t find.”

“Where the old bus is?” Marta asked.

“That’s right.” Knoth opened his mouth to say something else, but when he noticed a pair of his followers in hysterics, he rushed to offer them the same choice.

Marta froze. She could still hear her mother calling her name, and her fists pounding the window, but over the voices, the calls, and the pounding, she heard Knoth’s preachings.

Only the chosen few will see paradise. We are as Noah and his kin, afloat in the flood of sinners. One day the storm will pass and the floods will recede. We will see a new world, a paradise of our own. We will not have to fear the eternal damnation our lord has forseen for the rest of this wicked world.

She took a deep breath, and looked upon her mother one last time before running as fast as she could. She dodged the flashlight paths, climbed over fences and obstacles she came across, and thanked God for her too long legs that brought her to the secret exit.

The exit was a rusted gate, covered in ivy that no one bothered with anymore, but now Marta recognized two of Knoth’s trusted deacons standing guard at the gate.

Marta stopped at the familiar faces and caught her breath.

“Knoth said to come here,” she said, when she could breathe again.

Though the men exchanged confused glances, they did pry open the gate for her to squeeze through. 

Once through the gate, there was a third man guiding the stragglers to the old bus.

Marta joined the fellow escapees and found there to be a couple dozen of them on the bus. Most of them were young men, but there was a fair share of women among them, several of whom held crying infants to them, and one that prayed as she clung to her swelling stomach. All of them stopped to stare when Marta stepped in the bus. First at her, and then at one another, trying to place where she belonged, but before anyone could inquire about the stray child, one of the men outside ran in.

“Is everyone ready? The cops are getting deeper in and we don’t have much time until they find this area.”

“But what about Knoth,” asked one of the women. “We can’t go without him!”

The crowd murmured in agreement, and the man groaned. “Fine, but we need someone at the wheel when he’s here.” 

He returned to his post outside, while one of the men took the driver’s seat. 

For all of two minutes, the passengers waited. Many of the men fidgeted and frequently checked the windows. Meanwhile, the women murmured their prayers, and the mothers did their best to hush their bundled babies.

Marta only stood and watched their reactions until Knoth stumbled into the bus with two of the testament's women. 

In tears, the women hurried to the back of the bus, and huddled together.

Once they were settled in, Knoth called for the patrols to join them, but before the driver could floor it, one of the women with an infant cried out.

“Father, wait! Don’t go yet!”

“What is it, child?” Knoth snapped. “Don’t you realize that the enemy is at our doorstep? We haven’t much time!”

“But the little girl,” she said of Marta. “Her parents aren’t here. Is it really okay for us to steal her away like this without them?”

Knoth looked to the child and raised an eyebrow. When he came towards her, Marta neither flinched nor shrank away, though her brow did furrow in concern.

“Child, what is your name?” His tone was considerably softer than before, and he smiled as if the chaos outside their hideout was nonexistent. 

“It’s Marta.”

“Marta.” Knoth nodded as he echoed her name. “You’re the midwife’s daughter, aren’t you? I believe her name was Rachel?”

“Yes, Father Knoth.” Marta’s eyes fell to the floor at the mention of her mother. “The cops took her away, and I ran.”

“I see,” Knoth’s smile vanished, and he put a comforting hand on the child’s shoulder. “I’m very sorry.”

“Thank you,” Marta said, in a voice so small that she could barely hear it herself.

“And I’m also sorry to burden you with this choice, but we are leaving this place tonight and we need your answer. Will you be joining us?”

Marta bit her lip, and shifted in her seat. Her mother’s cries echoed through her head again. “What will happen if I stay behind?” she asked.

Knoth sighed. “You are still young, and for that the evils at our feet will surely show you mercy, but keep in mind that your youth will one day be spent and I cannot promise your safety beyond that. Knowing that, which do you choose?”

Though Marta fixed her gaze to the ground, she felt the stares on her. They told her to trust in Father Knoth, to believe in paradise, but it was only through recalling her mother’s regard for the reverend that she found the courage to look back up at Knoth.

“I choose salvation.”

“That’s a good girl.” Knoth’s voice was gentle as he put his hands on her shoulders. He turned her so she could face the naysayers. “You should all look to this child as an example!” He spoke as if he were at one of his sermons. “For even in her fear, she chooses that path to redemption, as treacherous as it may be. Her faith is a perfect kind, and for that she will receive the greatest rewards in Heaven!”

Before the crowd could either cheer or jeer, Knoth looked to the driver. “Go for the wooded path. Keep slow and don’t turn the lights on. Don’t be reckless unless you know for certain that we’re being pursued.”

Everyone held their breaths as the driver started the bus. They waited to hear those sirens and see the flashing lights at their tail, but as the seconds turned into minutes, there was only darkness and the hum of the engine. 

It was then that Marta realized that she stood alone, even though there were plenty of open seats. 

Many of the women offered her encouraging smiles, but Marta turned from them to the nearest open spot beside Knoth.

“Father Knoth?”

“Yes, my child?”

“May I?” she asked of the seat beside him.

“Of course.” He pat the spot once to welcome her.

At first, Marta was quiet. She sat straight and proper, picking at a loose thread on her skirt.

Knoth allowed her silence, without complaint, but when she found her voice again, he gave his attention.

“Father Knoth, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.” 

Only then did Marta notice his bloodshot eyes.

“What will happen to my mother? I saw the cops take her away and I’m scared. Only the few can be saved, but she couldn’t follow us. I know she would have if she could, but...she just couldn’t. It’s not her fault. God wouldn’t punish her for something she couldn’t help, would he?” 

Marta’s eyes watered as she spoke, but Knoth only smiled.

“The good Lord knows what is in her heart, and shall reward her justly.”

“Oh…” Marta feared revealing her ignorance, but Knoth continued.

“You understand what a ‘martyr’ is, do you not?”

“Yes, like Jesus Christ.”

“Just like Jesus Christ. And he is the most holy, right?”

“Right.”

“But do you remember what he had to do to become most holy?”

Marta frowned. “He had to die.”

“True, but through his death, he became our almighty, all powerful savior. For a martyr’s suffering is the most beautiful in God’s eyes, therefore their rewards are the greatest.”

Marta took a moment to process his words. “So is my mother going to be a martyr? Like Jesus Christ?”

“I suspect so,” Knoth said. “For she’s done our people a great service.” He looked to the whining infants. “She’s helped bring the next generation to life, and for that she will be remembered and revered among our people. Not only among what you see before you, but when those babes grow, they shall know it was your mother who delivered them to life, and when they offer their own children into this world, those children shall remember her, and so will their children, and so forth.” Knoth looked back at Marta. “I regret that your mother was taken by the enemy, but you are still here, and I believe your mother’s story will continue through her, and you shall keep her memory alive among our people.”

“But I’m just a child,” Marta murmured.

“For now, you are, but I believe that God has a mighty purpose for you, having delivered you from the hands of evil. Already, you have shown great courage this darkest of nights, and I believe it is only the start of many great things you shall do in the Lord’s name.”

Finally, Marta managed a smile. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Knoth said. “And I’m eager for God to tell me his plans for you.”

“Thank you, Father Knoth,” Marta said, bowing her head.

“Don’t thank me.” Knoth gently lifted her face so she looked at him again before letting go. “Thank the Lord in your prayers tonight before you sleep.”

“Will you pray with me, Father Knoth?” Marta asked. “Not just for me, but for my mother as well?”

“Of course, child.”

Marta bowed her head and clasped her hands together. When she felt Knoth’s hand on her head, she began her prayer.

“Thou Father who art in Heaven, thank you for delivering me from the hands of evil. I will work hard to ensure you did not save me in vain. Protect us on the road ahead, wherever you may take us. I pray you bring us to paradise and that I will live to see it. Protect the men, the women, and the little ones and give us courage. Also protect my mother and those that are left behind. Should you not guide them back to us, then welcome them into your paradise with open arms. They love you so and wish to see your face, as I do.” She gripped her hands tighter. “Praise be to the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Knoth. Amen.”

Marta opened her eyes.

“That was a lovely prayer, Marta,” Knoth said. He took his hand from her head and stood from his seat.

“Where are you going?” Marta asked.

“A shepherd must watch his flock,” he replied. “I’m going to offer solace to the others. You rest your eyes. The road ahead of us is long, and you should seize these moments of peace while you still can.”

“Yes, Father Knoth.”

With the reverend checking on the rest of the testament, Marta had the whole seat to herself. She laid her head down and brought her legs to her chest. Sleep came quickly, but at one point she stirred. 

Her mother’s fists beat on the window, begging to be let in. 

The pounding woke Marta up, and she jolted up to look out the window, but there was nothing. Only an endless expanse of desert. She soon realized it was nothing but a bump in the road, and she went back to sleep easily.


	2. September 22, 1968

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was a dumb and made a typo on the year in the last chapter so if you saw 1969 at first, it's supposed to be 1968.

Sunlight streamed through the windows and awoke Marta. Its brightness was enough to make her squint. She rolled over, hoping to block out the sun and sleep a little longer, when she felt a coat draped over her as if it were a blanket.

She sat up and observed the garment, and recognized it as the coat Knoth wore the night of their escape. Though she ached from the less than ideal sleeping conditions, and forced herself to stand up and look around the bus for Knoth, but he was nowhere to be found.

Not even half of the people from the escape were on the bus. Mostly a few that tried to sleep longer, but Marta did see a few of the women relaxing on the bus, including the one with the infant that spoke on Marta’s behalf the night before.

The woman held her little one, cooing and humming to the baby, and gave off an air of warmth about her, and she was the one that Marta went to.

“Good morning,” she said, with a sweet smile, when Marta approached. “It’s Marta, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“No need for ma’am,” she said. “There’s no need for formalities when we are all of the same flock. Please, call me Jasmine.”

Marta nodded.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Jasmine asked of Marta’s silence.

“Yes. I was wondering if you knew where Father Knoth is. I want to give him back his coat.”

“Oh, he went out with the others to get our bearings and supplies for the road ahead.”

“Where are we going?”

“Colorado. Knoth says we are going to spread the good word there now that the enemy has run us out of our homestead. ‘A blessing in disguise,’ he calls it.” Jasmine smiled slightly. “For more can be saved this way.”

Marta’s head hung low as she recalled her mother. “Yes, a blessing…”

She adjusted her hold on her child so she could reach out to put a hand on Marta’s arm. “I really am sorry about what happened to your mother. Rachel truly was a blessing to our testament, but you must remember that it is also a blessing that you were saved.”

Marta shifted slightly. “Yes, I know.”

“Just know that if you need anything, feel free to to come to any of us. I know this may seem frightening, but we are all here for one another through this trying time.” She shifted her hold so Marta could see her sleeping baby. “Me and Tristan would be happy to help in any way we can.”

Marta managed a smile for the baby. “Mother helped deliver him.”

“Yes, and he is my greatest joy. One I would have never known if not for joining the testament.”

At first, Marta opened her mouth to inquire on the father. Instead, she said, “I’m going to look for Father Knoth now.” She bowed her head slightly. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Jasmine.”

"It was nice to meet you too, Marta. Enjoy the fresh air while you can. It may be our last stop for a while.”

Marta nodded, and then left the bus, finding herself on a roadside stop. The vehicle was parked at the gas station, and she recognized many of the church members, strolling and chatting amongst themselves, and a few even taking advantage of the diner, but Marta went to a group of the testament’s men, gathered around a radio.

She made her way over to them, but there was only static, as one of the men adjusted the antenna.

“What are you trying to listen to?” Marta asked them.

“News from back on the Degan ranch,” grumbled the man with the antenna. The same man who helped people on the bus that night.

“No reception here though,” said another.

Still, Marta stayed on. She leaned in to listen for news of her mother, when her stomach growled.

One of the men heard, and held out a stick of jerky for her. “Want one?”

“Thank you,” Marta said, quietly, as she accepted the offer and took a bite, as she waited for a signal with the other men.

After several minutes of adjustment, the man finally caught a signal just strong enough to hear.

The group all hushed and huddled around the radio.

At first, everyone suffered through weather and traffic reports, but a few more minutes came the breaking news from the ranch.

"Though a dozen arrests have been made, there are still no leads as to the bodies found on the Degan Ranch. Police suspect foul play, but Knoth and his followers are still at large."

There were other snippets of information, but the static returned, and this time, no one bothered with the antenna.

“You really think going to Colorado will be enough?” one of the men asked.

“Knoth seems to think getting out of the state will help us out. Besides, we’re not in any real trouble if they don’t have any solid evidence on him.”

“Yeah, it’s all just suspicion right now, isn’t it?”

“Definitely. It’s probably just a slow news week. Trying to get the people with shock value.”

The others murmured in agreement, but Marta only shuddered.

“Do any of you know where Father Knoth is?” she blurted out. When the men stared, as if surprised to find her still there, she added in, “I want to give him his coat back.”

“He’s in the store getting supplies,” one of the men grunted.

"Thank you.” Marta started on her way, when the same man continued.

“Hey, kid. Just a warning that you might not want to use his name in there. Just to be safe.”

Marta nodded. “I won’t.”

As the men picked their conversation back up, Marta hurried into the store, where she easily found Knoth and one of his deacons conversing with the store manager. Both of them carried full bags in their arms.

Marta stood to the side, and waited until the men finished talking. She prepared to call out for Father Knoth, but her throat ran dry as the man’s warning echoed in her mind.

Instead, Knoth spoke first when he noticed her.

“Good morning, Marta. It’s good to see you out and about.”

“I came to give you your coat back.” Marta held out the garment, but was unable to look him in the eye. She hoped a quick addition of a “thank you,” would ease any suspicion.

Though Knoth raised an eyebrow, he still answered kindly. “It’s no trouble, child. The desert nights can get cold and you were shivering in your sleep.”

“Oh.”

The silence lingered between them, until Knoth voiced his concern. “Is there something troubling you?”

Marta shook her head. “I’m just tired and sore from the trip.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, but Marta’s stomach still tied itself in knots.

“Well if that’s all, then I’m sure a stroll will help. If you give me a moment to load the bus, I’ll join you.” He didn’t wait for her response before he joined the men in organizing their provisions.

Marta only sat on the curb and waited. She tried to enjoy the jerky, but it lost its taste. She had thrown it away by the time Knoth returned.

“Why so glum, child?” Knoth asked of her.

Marta shrugged. “I don’t know…”

“Well, let’s just walk a little, okay?” His voice softened considerably.

“Okay…” Marta stood up and walked alongside Knoth, but with each step her feet felt heavier and her stomach continued to churn.

It wasn’t long until Knoth stopped, noticing the sweat on her forehead. “Marta?”

“I need to use the restroom.”

She turned to run to the convenience store, but tripped and fell to her knees. The sand and gravel dug into her skin, but she could only think of her nausea. She waited to vomit, but only tears came.

“I-I’m sorry, Father. I...I just.” She took as deep a breath as she could manage. Only when she felt Knoth’s hand on her shoulder did she find the words. “I thought I was okay, but I can’t stop thinking about mother, the ranch, the radio, the-”

“The radio?” Knoth asked before she could finish.

“Uh-huh. Some of the men were listening to it, and they found bodies there.” She looked up at Knoth, with tear filled eyes. “They’re looking for us, aren’t they?”

“Oh, child,” Knoth shook his head. “Don’t tell me it’s the lies from the outside that have worried you.”

Marta only cried harder.

“It’s okay,” Knoth’s voice lacked its usual certainty. “I’m glad you told me. Fear is natural, but I assure you that it is not the outside world that you need to fear.”

“It’s not?” Marta choked out.

“No. The world outside of our testament may seem frightening. For they can prosecute us, drive us away, and even take our mortal lives, but none of that matters when compared to the promise of paradise everlasting.”

“I...I know all that, but...if not the outside world then what should I fear? Because I am scared.”

“The very same Lord who gives us our blessings,” Knoth’s voice sank as he spoke. “Everything he promises, he has the power to take away. That’s why we must do everything in our power to follow his will and spread his word.” 

Marta wiped the tears from her eyes, “Do you think that’s why Mother and the others were arrested? Because we didn’t follow his will well enough?”

Knoth sighed. “I think it was for our greed that God punished us. We were too comfortable on the Degan Ranch and we forgot our gratitude. I believe these trying times are to remind us to humble our hearts and remember where to give the glory to.”

“Did God tell you that?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re God’s prophet. That means he speaks to you, right?”

Knoth frowned. “He does, but only when he wishes to, and if I’m being honest, it’s a burden that I would wish on no one else.” 

“Why not?”

“Because God does not always come with good news. Sometimes he forces you to look deep inside yourself into a darkness that you didn’t know was real. It’s something unnatural that no ordinary man could live with. For they have twisted the Lord’s word beyond recognition. Even among our testament, we have only scratched the surface. That’s why we must continue the road ahead, as frightening as it may be.” Knoth stood and held out a hand for Marta. “So hold strong, my child. You’ve shown great courage and strength already, so look inside yourself and find that courage again. It will give you strength for the long road ahead.”

Marta took Knoth’s hand so he could help her up. It was then that they both realize her knees were bleeding.

“Let’s go back to the bus,” Knoth said. “We should have some bandages there for you.”

As they walked, Knoth kept hold of her hand. 

Marta had never seen his expression so sullen.


	3. October 1, 1968

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all appreciate the things I do for you because I spent work looking up bible verses and remembering years of baptist church services just to write this very Knoth-centric chapter.

The members of the testament shuffled around the bus and chattered earlier than usual. They gathered supplies and spoke a hundred miles a minute, but Marta was only now waking up. She searched for Knoth first, but settled on Jasmine, who was one of the few people not preoccupied.

“Miss Jasmine?”

“Oh, good morning, Marta. How are you?”

“Confused. Why is everyone in such a rush?”

Jasmine smiled brightly. “Father Knoth says it is finally safe for us to go out again, so everyone is making an event of it.”

“That’s good,” Marta took the seat beside Jasmine. “Are there plans?”

“It depends on who you ask.” Jasmine looked to the men from the radio. “The men are going out to look for work to build our funds back up. Father Knoth is going to preach, and I’m going to stay with a few of the women to watch after the little ones. We were thinking of going for a picnic in the park. How does that sound?”

Marta didn’t realize herself to be a ‘little one’ until Jasmine’s question. It made her frown. “I’m sure you all will have a nice time.”

“You don’t want to go? I know it might not be much fun with a bunch of ladies and little babies, but I’m sure there will be other kids there, closer to your age.”

Marta shook her head. “Thank you, but I think I’ll do something else.”

“I see…” Jasmine’s voice sank for a moment before she picked it back up. “Well, I know some of the younger couples are going into town. Maybe you’d like to join one of them?”

Marta looked out to the groups of people.

They laughed and chattered amongst themselves, but whenever Marta came to them, there were frowns and silence. Most of the testament avoided Marta when they could. As if looking at the child would bring a curse to them.

Then there was Knoth with his favorite deacon: Henry, the same man who brought Marta to the bus. They talked to one another in hushed tones, but Marta still went to join them. 

She stood aside, and waited for them to finish, without a word.

Henry overlooked her and walked by when the conversation ended, but Knoth remained.

“Good morning, Marta. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, Father Knoth,” Marta replied. “How about yourself?”

“Very well. It’s been a long time since we’ve been able to spread our word to the outside. I believe God has presented us this opportunity because more can be saved than we had initially thought possible.”

Marta smiled at the thought. “Is there any way I can help?”

Knoth’s eyes widened slightly. “You wouldn’t rather go to the park with the women?”

Marta shook her head. “No, I’d much rather help the testament.” At first she spoke in confidence, but when Knoth took longer to respond than usual, she continued. “But only if that’s okay. I understand if I’m too young to help.”

“Not at all,” Knoth chuckled. “I was just surprised is all, but if you would like to help, then you are welcome to come along. I think I have a perfect job for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but first, let us pray.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Brother Henry, would you please lead us in prayer?”

“Certainly, Father Knoth.”

Henry bowed his head and prayer and began when Knoth and Marta followed suit.

“Our father who art in Heaven, please guide us as we venture out to preach your word this blessed day. Guide the lost and weary to us. Let them see your presence through your prophet Knoth. Give him the right words to say, and bless our flock as they work for our cause. Praise be to the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Knoth. Amen.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Knoth said of the prayer. “I trust God will indeed be with us today.”

The trio left the bus, and began their walk into town. 

As they started out, Knoth handed Marta a stack of brochures he carried. “I would like it if you could help me hand these out. Sometimes they are the only way to get through to the people, a physical reminder of our message. That’s why it is an important job. For once we gained a follower of a man on the streets, finding this on the ground. He took it as a sign and sought us out. Now, he is a valuable member of our testament, and seeks out work today with the others to help our cause.”

The story brought a smile to Marta’s face. “I’m glad that we can help more people. Do you think that a lot will be saved today?”

“I certainly hope so. I would save them all if I could.”

“Well...we can save a lot, right?”

“Perhaps, but we must not get too ahead of ourselves.”

“But we want to save as many as possible, right?”

“We do, but it is not always about saving everyone. Sometimes it is about saving only one person, but even if that is all we can save, we must still take joy. For that means one less soul to the pit. One more person to call a brother or sister.”

“Yes, one is better than none at all...”

“Remember that today, Marta. If we can save just one person: man, woman, or child, then God will rejoice in us. For does the shepherd not rejoice more in retrieving the single lost lamb, over the 99 already found?”

“He does.”

“Then so shall we.”

The rest of walk was made in relative silence, aside from the occasional small talk between Knoth and Henry. 

20 minutes later, they found themselves at a block bustling with life. Every store had its doors wide open, and plenty of customers weaved in and out the shops. They passed by buskers and street performers, but there was still an open spot for the reverend, as if it were reserved for him.

He took the area and looked to Henry and Marta for approval before he began his sermon.

“God has spoken to me!”

A businessman quickened his pace. 

“And he speaks of his displeasure in us. For since the sacrifice of his only begotten son, man has twisted and perversed his teachings beyond recognition!”

A woman ignores Henry when he tries to give her a brochure, but she does stop and take the one from Marta. She forces a smile for the little girl, but she is quick to be on her way.

“But fear not! In his great mercy, God has given us time to repent! He has not yet abandoned us! For from the book of Deuteronomy Chapter 18, verse 18, ‘I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their brothers. And I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him’. Gather and I shall speak those words to you!”

Marta hands out a few more brochures, but she sees one man throw it in the trashcan when he thinks she is not looking. 

“But paradise is still at hand! Even as you all pass by, God is still reaching out!”

A few men are stopped by Knoth’s targeting words. They stop and listen for a few minutes, but when they read through the brochure, they shuffle away, their heads hung low. 

Marta smiles when one keeps ahold of his pamphlet.

“He’s in our dreams, calling for us when we sleep. A hushed murmur in the masses, a figure in the distance, a voice in the static…”

A gentleman dressed nicer than the others stops to listen.

Marta expects him to hurry by like the others, but he never turns away. He takes the pamphlet and scans it throughout the sermon.

Only when Knoth steps down does the gentleman speak.

“You hear the voice in the static too?”

“Yes, I do,” Knoth’s voice softened then. For he spoke not as a preacher, but a fellow man. “But its message only became clear when I was at my lowest point.”

The gentleman chuckled. “And here I was thinking I was losing my damn mind. No one has believed me about the static. Even my wife said I was crazy.”

“What did you hear in the voice?” Knoth asked him.

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Do you not understand its message?”

He shook his head. “I hear it as clear as we’re talking now, but I don’t know what it is telling me. It speaks in gibberish, but the voice is so clearly human. I wish I knew how to describe it better…”

“Sometimes the holy voices speak to us in tongues that we cannot comprehend, but I believe the voice is what beckoned you to us today. For God was calling out to you to save you from his wrath.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever been a religious man,” he started, before looking Knoth in the eye. “But you’re the first person who didn’t call me crazy for hearing things.”

“Many a great men have been called crazy in their time, have they not?”

“Can’t argue with you there, sir.”

“Please, call me Father Knoth.”

“Then call me Dr. Friedman.”

“Oh, a doctor, are you?”

“A surgeon to be precise. For eight years now, but I don’t know. It’s complicated…”

Knoth put a hand on the gentleman’s shoulder. “Tell me all about it, son.”

Knoth took a seat with Friedman, and Marta looked to Henry for instruction. “Do we keep passing these out?” Marta asked of her dwindling stock of pamphlets.

“We can take a break now. Let them have their space.”

Marta nodded and joined the deacon’s side, allowing Knoth and Friedman their privacy.

“Is this how the sermons usually go?” she asked him.

“Sometimes,” Henry replied. 

“How do they go other times?”

“We used to get more people, but that was in a town where we were known. We have to start from scratch now, so it’s inevitable we will not receive as many, but it’s okay. Father Knoth will guide us through this as he always had.”

“What was the biggest sermon you’d ever seen?”

Henry smiled. “The sermon where I was saved. He spoke with such conviction and power that we were all drawn to him that day. He wasn’t like the rest of those preachers who sing Kumbaya and tell you that God loves everyone no matter what. Knoth understood the road to salvation is a perilous one. It’s a harsh truth that many turn their eyes from, but that doesn’t change it. For how could a kind and loving God create a world so harsh and cruel?”

Marta shifted uncomfortably. He spoke the same philosophies as Knoth, but hadn’t Knoth’s sympathy. “But doesn’t God promise us paradise? Wouldn’t he have to be kind if he promises that?”

“He can be, but only those with the strength to follow him. That’s why we must rejoice in the single lost lamb. For if we concern ourselves with wolves…” he shook his head, unable to finish. “Just consider yourself blessed that you are of those 99 sheep who need not be sought out.”

Marta chose not to engage the deacon any further, and he didn’t force her to talk anymore. They merely waited together until Knoth and Friedman had had their time.

Before they returned to their own, Knoth had spoken two more sermons. Some passed by, and others stayed to listen, but Friedman was the only one to join them when they made the journey back.

Nonetheless, Knoth continued to speak excitedly of the testament, and it was at each others side that they walked all the way back.


	4. October 7, 1968

The surgeon’s salary brought hope to the testament.

No longer did they have to cram in the bus when the sun went down. They had gathered enough tents and sleeping bags to make a camp large enough for the full congregation. The women spent their days making the area into a home while the men worked hard to rebuild the testament’s funds.

However, late one night, Marta abandoned the campsite for the bus. It was the only place that blocked out the screaming of the woman in labor.

Upon entering, Marta found she was not the only one with the idea.

The women who cared for the infants sought refuge from the cries so their little ones could rest. Among them was Jasmine who managed a tired smile for Marta.

“Are you trying to get some sleep too?” she asked.

Marta shrugged. “I’m not really tired. I just didn’t want to hear the screaming anymore.”

"It’s scary, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that. I know it’s normal so it doesn’t scare me, but….”

“But what?” Jasmine asked when Marta couldn’t finish the thought. 

“Mother used to help Father Knoth deliver the babies.”

Jasmine frowned. “I think I understand.”

A silence followed, that Jasmine broke through, as she always did.

“Do you miss her?”

“Sometimes,” Marta admit. “But I know it was all for the best.”

“I often wonder about that,” Jasmine said. “It’s all so strange and confusing right now that I’m probably all mixed up, but I still can’t help but wonder. Maybe we could have saved more if we waited just a little longer before leaving. Maybe we didn’t have to leave at all. There are times when such accusations work themselves out.”

Marta said nothing.

“Do you ever wonder about it all? You don’t have to keep it all bottled in.”

"I try not to,” Marta said, if only to satisfy Jasmine.

She then moved to a window where she could see the tent where the woman lied in when her labor began. Knoth and Dr. Friedmann went in when it began and had yet to come out.

Many others gathered outside the tent. Some eager and talkative. Others had nervous expressions, and flocked to the deacons for comfort.

"It’s been a long time,” Marta remarked of the spectacle.

“Sometimes that’s how it is, but I’m sure it’s fine,” Jasmine said.

“You’re probably right.”

Even so, Marta continued to stare through the window. The scene appeared to be unchanging. Everyone standing where they started, with the same expressions. The only movement was in their mouths as they spoke to one another. 

Then, Knoth exited the tent. In his arms was a baby bundled in a blanket, but his expression showed neither joy nor celebration. Only tired eyes and a frown.

Friedmann followed him out moments later. He shook his head and said something that reduced many in the crowd to tears.

“I think something’s wrong,” Marta said.

“Let me see.” Jasmine joined Marta at the window. She had only watched for a moment when she gasped. “Oh no...I don’t think she made it.”

“I’m going to find out.” Marta stood up from her seat.

“Are you sure?” Jasmine’s brow furrowed. “You should at least wait a few minutes for things to calm down out there.”

Marta paused at her words. She took a staggered breath before saying, “It’ll be fine. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

With that, she stepped off the bus. 

The camp was a small distance from where she stood, but the night breeze carried the sobs to her. She shuddered at the noise and looked back at the vehicle. For a moment, she thought about returning to the bus, and listening to Jasmine chatter on about whatever came to mind, but Marta took a deep breath and started towards the camp. As she drew closer, she began to hear murmurs from the people.

“Poor Jenny…”

“She wanted this baby so badly.”

“She was such a stubborn girl that I thought she would make it.”

Marta listened to the gossip for only a few minutes, before searching the people for Knoth among them, but he was nowhere to be found, even as the people called out for him.

She walked past their cries to the largest of the tents. The entrance was unzipped, but when Marta poked her head in, all she found were empty sleeping bags, and a flickering lantern. With Knoth nowhere to be seen within his flock, she took the lantern with her to journey outside of the camp.

No one noticed her as she slipped away from their settlement, and Marta sighed in relief. The crickets and the sharp wind in the air that night drowned out their sorrow. Though, Marta shivered from the chill, she pressed forward until she found Knoth.

He stood with his back towards her-silent and unmoving. 

She waited for him to acknowledge her, but he only stared at the stars and the moon that shone brighter away from the settlement. 

After a full minute of waiting, she stepped forward. “Father Knoth?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

Knoth looked over his shoulder at her. He was silent as he stared at her for a moment, before talking.

“Good evening, Marta.” He spoke as cordial as ever, but there was a heaviness in his voice that made her shudder.

“Good evening, Father.” She wanted to speak further, but she only shifted after the greeting.

“Did they send you out after me,” he asked, as he looked back at the night sky.

Marta shook her head. “No, Father. I came on my own.”

“That’s good.” His voice softened, but he still didn’t look at her.

Marta came to stand by his side and look out to the night sky. She relaxed in the silence between them for a time, before forcing herself to continue. “What happened?”

Knoth sighed heavily. “You know Jenny, right?”

“A little. She was one of the younger women, right?”

Knoth hung his head low. “The Lord has decided to give her eternal peace tonight,” he said of her.

The silence between them returned, but this one brought no relief. Marta searched for the words to bring ease and break the silence, but all she could think to say was, “God rest her soul.”

“Yes, God rest her soul,” Knoth echoed. 

Silence again.

“Are...are you well, Father?” Marta asked when the silence lasted too long.

He nodded “I will be. It's just always trying to lose one of our own. I only needed a moment’s peace.”

“My apologies,” Marta uttered. “I didn’t didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You are never a disturbance, my child.” Though he still stared out into the distance, he rest a hand on top her head, and left it there. 

Marta said nothing. Only waited until he spoke again.

“Can I ask something of you, my child?”

“Of course, Father.”

“Would you fetch the women from the bus? I want to address the congregation as a whole.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Thank you,” Knoth took his hand from her head. “If anyone asks, you can tell them I will join them momentarily. I won’t need much longer.”

“Yes, Father.” 

Before she went off, she set the lantern beside Knoth. 

“Thank you, Marta,” he said when she thought he didn’t notice.

"Your welcome,” she said, before setting back to the campsite.

Without the lantern, Marta had to follow the light from the campfire back to the congregation. As the mutterings and cries of the congregation came back into earshot, Marta’s steps became slower, more deliberate. 

But as long as she took, the congregation stopped and stared when she rejoined them. 

Marta’s throat ran dry as she stared back at them.

“Father Knoth will be back soon,” she told them. She scurried off to the bus before any of them could inquire further.

She returned to the bus and sighed in relief. The silence allowed her a moment to catch her breath, but she could still feel eyes on her. Waiting, expecting, pleading to hear there was nothing to worry about. That it was just unfounded worry from the stress. 

Marta could not give them the news they so longed for, but she forced herself to stand straight and tall. She thought of Knoth alone in the desert as she cleared her throat.

“The mother has passed on,” she told them. “Father Knoth would like to address the Testament as a whole at the camp.”

At the news, the women spoke in voices too quiet for Marta to hear, but they still gathered the sleeping babes in their arms. All but Jasmine and little Tristan walked ahead of Marta to the campsite.

When they reached the area, Knoth had already taken his place before the people, but only the crackling of the campfire could be heard. He only spoke when Marta met his gaze.

“Brothers, sisters, children. I speak to you this night with the most heavy of hearts. For God has decided to take our Jenny Fairfield into his garden. To lose one of our own is always a tragedy,but as you mourn, I must implore you to find solace in your grief. For she is in the Lord’s care now. If she could speak to us now, she would tell us not to cry for her, but to rejoice with her. She has found paradise! And her blood will remain with us still,” He motioned to Friedmann who held the newborn son out for the crowd to see. “And her son will serve as a reminder of her, and we will love him as we loved her.”

There was a solemn applause at the address, but it turned into silence at Knoth’s final statement.

“But for tonight, I ask that you join me in putting her to rest.”

The people exchanged confused glances with each other, but it was Jasmine who spoke out.

“But where, Father?”

“We will journey out into the wilderness and lay her to rest there. She will be far away from sinners of the outside world and none will be able to sully her.”

Jasmine’s jaw dropped. “We’re just going to bury her in the desert? But what if there’s someone looking for her? Shouldn’t we-”

“Why do you question me, child,” The was an edge to his words. “Have we not buried our own before?”

“Yes, we have…” Jasmine’s shoulders sagged and she looked to the ground. “But that was when we were at the ranch, a true home. Our testament belonged there and could move on in peace when their time came. Now...no one will know where she rests…”

“We are her people. We will all know where she lies,” Knoth narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, but Father-”

“We must depart while night is still with us,” Knoth said before she could continue. “Come, children.” 

He stepped down and the rest of the congregation followed. They all divided up to either board the bus or one of the used vehicles they had managed, but they all moved slowly and murmured to each other as they moved along. All careful to keep their distance from Knoth.

Marta and Jasmine sat in the very back seat of the bus. They said nothing to each other.


	5. October 19, 1968

"Have you ever thought about leaving?”

Marta froze at Jasmine’s question. “Never,” she replied, even as her mother’s face came to mind.

“Why not?” Jasmine asked, a little more gently this time.

“Because we are a flock and Father Knoth is our shepherd. If we do not stick together for the trials ahead, we’ll be lost to the enemy.”

Jasmine frowned at how matter of factly Marta said this, but continued nonetheless. “But are you happy here?” she challenged. “Living like this?”

Marta looked around the tent they sat in. Rather than beds, sleeping bags covered the floors. Water bottles littered the area, and the wind that beat outside the tent chilled with each passing day.

Regardless, Marta nodded. “Others of our faith have had it worse. We should be thankful that we are at least free from prosecution.”

"But what if we’re not?”

“What do you mean?” Marta asked, with a tilt of her head.

“I’m talking about the other week with Jenny. Surely you’ve been thinking about it too.”

“It’s always a tragedy to lose one of our own,” Marta muttered. “It’s only natural to think about it.”

Jasmine shook her head. Before continuing, her eyes darted around the tent, and her voice lowered into a hush. “Father Knoth has been acting strange since that night. Maybe there’s always been something strange and I was too blind to see, but I do know that since that night I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something terribly wrong.”

Marta lowered her tone to match Jasmine’s. “Why so?”

“Because it was wrong to bury Jenny in the wilderness like that.”

“But what else was were we to do?”

"Someone should have been told. We’re never far from a town and her death was natural. There’s no reason for us to fear sharing the news of her death, but still…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought.

“But we’ve buried our own before. It was the same as that.”

“No, it was not.” Jasmine spoke with enough sternness to make Marta flinch. “Our dead lie in consecrated ground. We marked their graves and made them in memorium so anyone could pay their respects, but with Jenny...it felt like we hid her away in shame. Father Knoth wouldn’t even let me bring flowers to her resting spot. Like she was some dirty secret rather than one of our own.”

Marta shifted slightly and her gaze drifted aside. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because…” Jasmine’s voice became so quiet, she had to lean in for Marta to hear what she said next. “I’m going to leave tonight.”

Marta gasped, “But Miss Jasmine, that’s...you can’t do that! The only way to salvation is through the Prophet Knoth!”

“But what if he’s not the prophet?” Jasmine snapped, almost too loudly.

Marta’s hands clasped over her mouth and her eyes grew wide. “Miss Jasmine, that’s heresy.” 

“Yes, yes, I know what it sounds like, but you must listen to me. I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try to get through to you, so will you at least allow me that much?”

Though she frowned, Marta did nod.

Jasmine put her hands on Marta’s shoulder and looked her in the eye. “What happened to you was wrong. Everyone here knows it. We abandoned your mother and stole you from her. This was too great of a decision for you to make by yourself and you should be with her now.”

“What does it matter?” Marta backed from Jasmine’s hold. “Mother is arrested and I’ll probably never see her again.”

“But what if you could?”

Marta stared at Jasmine, dumbfounded. “What?”

“All we need to do is get in touch with social services and I know they’ll be able to help you. Rachel was a licensed midwife so she did nothing wrong. The more I think about it, the more sure I am that she was only brought in overnight for questioning and-”

The walls in the apartment were too thin. Arguments of drugs, affairs, and money broke through most nights. Through those evenings, Marta and Rachel sat side by side on the couch, huddled together. 

Before Marta could tell Rachel her concerns, the mother would hum a hymnal just loud enough for Marta to forget the shouting, the fact their apartment was too old, that it was never safe enough to go out at night, that Rachel often cried when she thought Marta was asleep, and-

“Marta!”

Looking up, Marta eyed Jasmine as if she were a stranger. Still, Jasmine continued to speak.

“Will you come with us tonight?”

“Huh,” Marta finally managed to choke out.

“Me and a few of the others are going to escape tonight. One of the men in charge of the cars is going to help us get one and then we can drive into town and go on from there. Please say you’ll come with us.”

“I…” Marta’s throat ran dry. “I don’t know…”

“Think about it,” Jasmine said. “We won’t be leaving until late tonight so you have time.”

“What if I fall asleep before you leave?”

“I’ll wake you,” Jasmine promised. “You just take the time you need to think it over.”

“I will.”

With that, Marta exited the tent. She took in a deep breath, but rather than the freshness she expected, the air tasted stale. She then looked up at the sun. Though it was still high in the sky, it taunted her, counting down her precious moments of consideration. She shook her head of the dread and went to tend to what little chores or tasks she could find around the campsite.

As she busied herself, she no longer felt so stiff and breathing came easier, but then Knoth’s voice broke through.

“Marta?”

She jumped at his voice. Though she quickly calmed herself, her response came out in a stammer. “F-Father Knoth! I...you startled me.”

“It wasn’t my intention, child.” He spoke normally, but his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed as he looked at her. 

Marta bowed her head low. “I’m sorry, Father. Can I help you with something?”

“I was just going to ask if you had seen Henry. I had a few things to discuss with him, but I can’t find him.”

“I haven’t seen him anywhere.” Though Marta’s voice settled, her eyes remained fixed at the dirt beneath her feet. She waited for Knoth to leave, but he continued to speak.

“Are you...alright, my child?”

His voice was laden with a heaviness that Marta had only heard once or twice before, but she couldn’t bring herself to see if his expression matched his tone. She only answered with, “I’m fine, Father.”

“Are you sure?”

Only then did Marta force herself to look up at Knoth, heart pounding in her chest every moment. Nonetheless she spoke in a loud and clear voice. “Yes, Father. I’m only a little tired is all.”

“Then you must go rest,” Knoth said, much softer than before Even his expression offered sympathy. “You’ve been working much of the day away so you should retire to one of the tents. I could have someone bring your dinner to you, if you like.”

“Thank you,” Marta bowed her head once more before hurrying into the tent.

In there, she was able to breathe easy again. For she no longer had to watch the sun steal her time away and could lie down in thought.

She sought to return to a time before the ranch, before the testament, before Knoth, but the images became hazier the longer she thought

Then came the ranch. 

The images came clearer there, but none told Marta why they came to the ranch. Only that it always was.

If only she understood why. 

That was all she needed. 

Why…

Only sleep offered her relief from that question, but even then it was short lived, as Jasmine shook her awake.

“Marta, it’s time. Are you coming?” she whispered. With one arm she gripped Marta’s shoulder, and the other held a sleeping Tristan.

The dryness in her throat returned, as she looked up at Jasmine. She only found an answer when she recalled the night of their initial escape.

“God knows what’s in our hearts, right? No matter where we go?”

Jasmine smiled. “Yes, of course he does.”

Marta took a deep breath. “Then I’ll go.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Not since before the burial in the desert, did Jasmine smile so brightly. “Do you have everything you need?”

The question had little purpose. Without the testament, none of them had a penny to their names, but Marta held her tongue and nodded.

“Then stay very quiet and follow me.”

They tiptoed out of the tent and entered complete silence of the site. It would have been complete darkness too, if not for the moon offering them just enough light to weave through the paths of tents until they reached the red truck.

Beside it stood one of the women who was always around Jasmine. She too carried a sleeping baby. Marta also recognized one of the younger couples--the man holding the keys to the truck.

Each of them expressed surprise at Marta’s presence, but none protested.

“Is everyone ready to go?” the man asked them. “Because this is your last chance to turn back.”

As he waited for a response, there was only the chirping of the crickets. So often ignored, but tonight, deafening. Perhaps someone tried to protest over the noise, but the man went ahead and opened the trunk.

Somehow the click of the lock was even louder.

Everyone looked back to the camp, but only saw the tents as they left them, still silent and shrouded in darkness.

The man then opened the trunk, only for it to be accompanied with a loud creaking that made him wince, but no one looked back this time. He and his woman crammed bags in the trunk, along with supplies that Marta recognized from the bus. Every bag landed with more noise than the last, but that only made them quicken their pace.

Meanwhile, Jasmine and the mother cleared out the backseat with much more care for their volume.

Marta only stared.

“I’m sorry, Marta, but we’re going to need to squeeze you in the middle,” She heard Jasmine say at one point, but Marta didn’t respond.

“Marta?”

She was back at Degan Ranch.

“What’s wrong?” Jasmine asked.

Marta shook her head. “It’s just like before.”

“What do you mean?”

"We’re only running away, deserting our own. All over again…”

“Only to save ourselves,” Jasmine gripped Marta’s shoulders and her breathing became rigid. “I know you’re scared, but this isn’t how people are supposed to live. You must know that.”

Marta looked back at the campsite. As they slept through the betrayal, her heart ached for them. At one point, the ache became so great that she had to look away, and back to Jasmine.

“I know that, but I also know that the road to salvation is one that is twisted with thorns and snares,” Though the ache began to fade, Marta still struggled to continue. “It is arduous, but it is also good. I know this in my heart of hearts…”

“But, Marta-”

“No!” Marta stepped back. “I’m not running away. Not again.”

Jasmine opened her mouth to protest, but the man of the group beat her to it.

“I told you she wouldn’t come, Jas. Let’s just go. Knoth wouldn’t let anything happen to her.”

“Go with them,” Marta said. “I know God will forgive you.”

“But…”

“Jas, we can’t do this all night,” the man seethed. “We’re already lucky no one heard us. We have to go now.”

“I…” she gave Marta one last pleading glance, but the child only nodded.

“I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Jasmine’s brow furrowed. She continued to stare at Marta, only looking away when Tristan stirred in her arms. Her gaze softened as she looked down and hushed him back to sleep. When he was silent again, she handed the baby off to one of her companions. She muttered something too low for Marta to hear, before returning her attention to her, kneeling down so their gazes met.

“I’m sorry, Marta. I really am. Maybe we are making a huge mistake, but I can’t stay here. I would force you with us if I could, but just…” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I’ve said my piece, so now I only ask that you remember us kindly.

Marta nodded. “I will.”

“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” 

“I’m sure,” Marta said easily.

Without warning, Jasmine hugged Marta then. It came so suddenly that Marta stiffened at the contact. Even so, she frowned when Jasmine let go.

“Goodbye, Marta, and God bless.”

“God bless you, Jasmine. I’ll pray for your safe journey on the road ahead.”

“Thank you, Marta.”

She moved as slowly as she could and kept her eyes on Marta the whole while, but Jasmine at last entered the truck.

Once she was inside, the engine started, and it backed out. It started at a crawl for the first moments of movement, and when there was no interruption, it sped away from the camp.

Marta stared after it until it was impossible for the naked eye to see. Only then did she kneel down to pray.

“Lord, please forgive Miss Jasmine and the others. They do not mean offense against you. For it is only out of fear they flee, so do not strike them down in your wrath. Rather, find mercy in your heart to bless them with a safe journey: wherever they may go, and perhaps...one day...if you so will it, you can guide them back to us, as the prodigal son. Praise be to the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and of Knoth. Amen.”

Marta opened her eyes and a light shined upon her.

There stood Knoth, lantern in hand, and an expression so hardened that he looked more as a statue than a man. He waited for her to speak, but she could only stare up at him with wide eyes.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” he finally said.

“I…” Marta trembled as she searched for her voice, and when she found it all she could manage was a, “Yes, Father.”

Knoth’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“No…” Her voice barely audible.

“Did you think that silence would absolve from the sin of lying?”

Marta shook her head.

"Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was scared,” Marta admitted. “Miss Jasmine was always very kind to me. I didn’t want her to be punished.”

“And now she has gone astray because of your silence.” Knoth said, lowly. “You let her give into temptation when the Lord saw fit to put you in her path.”

Marta’s gaze fell to the tracks left behind by the tires. “Maybe...maybe we could still go after them?” she asked, quietly. “They couldn’t have gotten too far…”

“No,” Knoth turned his back to the tracks.

Marta’s jaw dropped. “But...aren’t they still part of our flock? Just because they wandered astray doesn’t mean they are no longer our own.”

Knoth shook his head. “Not anymore. For they have shown where their loyalty lies and we have no place for heretics among us.”

“But, Father-”

“They knew the road to paradise would be trying and dangerous, but they still let their cowardice sway them from the Lord.” He spoke louder now, nearly shouting. He then glared at Marta. “And do not think you do not share blame in this. I had thought your faith stronger, my child. Do you question our Lord’s ways?”

Marta’s eyes began to water. “No, Father. I do believe in our Lord. I really do, it’s just…” She bit her lip rather than continuing.

“Just what?” Knoth asked her, his tone still icy and low.

“I…” she nearly choked on her own words. “I do believe they still love the Lord.”

“Then why are you the one who stayed behind and not them?”

Marta’s brow furrowed as she searched for an answer. “I...well...it’s because...they...I...um…”

"Nevermind,” Knoth uttered, shaking his head. “You are only a child. It was wrong of me to expect so much out of you.”

“But Father, please-”

“Marta, that is enough!” Knoth snapped. He took a deep breath, and his voice settled, though there was still an edge to it. “You have had a very trying day. I suggest you get some rest.”

Tears rolled down Marta’s cheeks, but Knoth didn’t see them in the darkness.

“Yes, Father,” she choked out. Her head hung low. “Please forgive me. I will never lie to you again.”

“You are forgiven,” Knoth spoke with neither hesitation, nor warmth. He didn’t even bother to look at her. Still, Marta thanked him, and hurried back to the campsite, and headed straight for the tent she once shared with Jasmine. It was quiet without the baby’s cooing and Jasmine’s chatter.


	6. December 27, 1968

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most sympathetic I'll be writing Knoth so enjoy it while you can.

After preaching for only half his usual time, Knoth stepped down from his post in the streets. Not a single soul had been swayed that day, but he still ushered for Marta to take leave with him.

“Are you sure, Father?” Marta asked, quietly. “It’s still early in the day. Perhaps there are some still to see our way?”

Knoth shook his head. “Not today, child. We’ve done enough. I should have known the weather would hinder our chances of reaching out.”

The clouds greyed out the sky above them and many of the people out that day came with umbrellas on hand in anticipation, Marta and Knoth included.

"Yes, Father,” Marta uttered, as she watched the people walk by. None spared so much as a glance for them.

Without much to gather, Marta and Knoth needed little time to be on their way, but when they began to walk, their movements were sluggish, as if their limbs weighed twice as much.

They said nothing at first. The light pitter-patter of the raindrops against their umbrellas filled in the silence well enough, but after a time, Knoth spoke out, his voice barely stronger than the rain.

“Thank you for joining me today. It is always good to receive support when venturing out into the outside.”

“I don’t mind,” Marta said. “I know the deacons are very busy nowadays.”

“Yes, they are best needed with the others…”

Marta’s stomach growled at the mention of the testament. Since they had become 100 strong, she had learned to ignore the aches and knots in her empty gut, but that didn’t stop them from happening, nor did it stop Knoth from taking notice.

“Did you not eat before we left?”

She shook her head. “One of the younger children needed the food more than me.”

Knoth groaned and rubbed his head. “Then why didn’t you stay behind and rest? You’ll do nothing for anyone, straining yourself like this.”

“Being hungry isn’t so bad once you get used to it,” she said, as if she were only commenting on the chill that threatened to turn the rain into snow.

The silence would have returned, if not for them passing by a little sandwich shop. Scents of freshly baked bread and sliced tomatoes escaped through the cracked-open door and made the pair stop in their tracks.

They peered through the water-streaked windows to see plates of food offered up to the lunch hour rush. Businessmen scarfed down their meals, while those waiting tapped their toes, and checked their watches every few moments. 

“We shouldn’t be staring,” Marta said, though she didn’t tear her eyes away.

“If you promise not to tell the others, we can go in,” Knoth said, as he folded up his umbrella.

Marta gasped. “And spend the testament’s money? We mustn’t!”

A heavy sigh came with Knoth’s response. “We can afford just a small luxury if it’s only once.”

“I couldn’t.” Marta shook her head. “Not when so many of our own are in more need than me…” Her stomach let out a growl in punctuation.

“Come, child.” Knoth didn’t wait for a response as he went to the entrance. He held the door open for Marta through and only entered after she stepped foot inside.

A bell above the door jingled to alert others of their presence, but it was only the young woman at the register who looked upon their haggard faces and plain clothing. She greeted them with the fakest of smiles and took their order, only breaking with slight surprise in her eyes when Knoth had the money to pay.

Once their meals were prepared, the pair settled at a table in the corner. Far out of everyone’s way and from the door that continually let in the cold air.

Marta reached for the sandwich, but stopped when Knoth spoke.

“A blessing.”

“Oh!” Marta retracted her hand, and bowed her head, giving Knoth the queue to start.

“Thou Father who art in Heaven, bless this day, and the meal before us. Amen.” He spoke hurriedly and without the usual gravity in his voice. Nonetheless, the two were quick to grab their food, yet it was with a great reluctance that they ate. 

Bites came without flavor, and swallowing proved difficult. The food brought on aches that were greater than the hunger, but neither uttered a complaint. They struggled with each bit, continuing long after most of the patrons had left, and only when the workers began whispering to one another did they finish their meals.

“Thank you,” Marta said, after a worker took their plates. Both so empty after too much effort. “I’m most grateful, Father. Truly I am.”

“Yes, you’re welcome,” Knoth replied, though he didn’t offer so much as a courtesy smile.

“Is something the matter, Father?” Marta asked of his indifference.

Knoth shook his head. “Nothing that you need concern yourself with,” he muttered.

“Please tell me. I don’t mind, really.” Marta leaned forward and looked up at Knoth with pleading eyes, to which he responded with a resigned sigh.

“We can’t go on like this. The testament will be in ruin if we do.”

Though she hesitated at first, Marta shook her head. “No, God is only testing us. The same as Moses’ people as they wandered in the wilderness. They survived to see the promised land and so shall we.”

“That was because God supplied them with manna. For us, we are left in want.”

The pangs in Marta’s stomach returned. “But why would he not provide for us now? Surely there must be a reason.”

“I wish I knew.”

Marta’s eyes widened. “Does God no longer speak with you?” 

“He does, but his voice is so faint that I seldom understand his message. I fear he is drifting from us.”

“Then what are we to do, Father? We’re lost without our Lord.”

“I must journey closer to him. If he will not come to us, then I must go to him--for all our sakes.”

Marta’s eyes dimmed. “Have you told the others?”

“Not yet. I worry of their reactions with times so hard.”

“Perhaps it is a test for them as well,” Marta suggested. “Those who remain will be rewarded for their faith and see paradise.”

“And what of you, Marta?” Knoth looked her in the eye. “If I left in our darkest hour, would you stay on?”

Marta met Knoth’s gaze. Looking into his eyes sent chills down her spine, but still she answered with, “Until the end.”

For the first time that day, he smiled. “Thank you, child.”


	7. December 31, 1968

The deacons no longer protested when Marta entered Knoth’s tent. They learned to greet her kindly, while Knoth would welcome her as she were were always meant to be there, but when she entered that night, the deacons said nothing, and Knoth only murmured a hello, his focus on the small collection of items laid before him.

“You’re leaving tonight, aren’t you?” she asked when he didn’t even turn to face her.

“Yes, Marta,” he replied. “The arrangements have been made, and if I parry any longer, I won’t have the strength for this journey.”

“I understand.” She came to his side and looked upon the provisions--a blanket, a gourd of water, and a hunting knife. “Why the blade?”

Knoth lifted the knife, and held it up, unable to tear his eyes away. “Sometimes God demands sacrifice. I have to be prepared for anything.”

“Yet you bring so little…” she uttered.

“Preparation does not always manifest itself as the physically tangible.”

“That’s true…” Marta gave the supplies another lookover, ”and how much food will you bring?”

“None,” Knoth answered easily.

“What?” Marta stared at Knoth, searching his face for dishonesty or jest, but his expression remained neutral. “But Father, you must bring something. We’ve used all we have to restock yet you’ve eaten so little.”

“I will use this time to fast and think on my sins,” he said without batting an eye.

“But you aren’t in the state for fast! The congregation will understand if you bring just a little!”

Knoth put up his hand to silence her. “This is not up for debate. I have made my decision, and this will be my spiritual cleansing.”

Marta looked to the deacons for back up, but their defeated expressions told her that they had the same argument, with matching results.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I must speak to my people.” Knoth gathered his supplies in the blanket and carried it out with him.

Two of the deacons followed, but the one Marta recognized as Henry stayed behind. He stood at the entrance of the tent, brows furrowed while he stared after Knoth. 

As she joined his side, Marta noticed Henry also clutched a brown paper sack in his hand, but she said nothing of it. “Where is he going to go?” she asked instead.

“The mountaintop, just east of here.” His voice and expression were equally stony.

“He can’t go out there,” Marta barely spoke above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would curse Knoth, “The journey will be too much for him, and it’s so cold…”

“Believe me, we tried to talk him out of it, but he won’t listen to reason anymore,” he said, shaking his head.

“But if he leaves like this, he’ll…”

As she struggled to finish her sentence, Henry handed her the sack. “Give him this. If it’s you, he might give in.”

Marta peeked into the bag and saw a loaf of bread, sticks of jerky, and containers of cut vegetables. Enough for a week’s worth of snacking, but not enough for a proper meal.

“But I already tried. You saw. He didn’t listen.”

“Try once more. He has a soft spot for you. Everyone can see it. Use that to your advantage. He’s a man chosen by God, but he is a man all the same, and we can’t afford to lose him. Not now, not like this…” He looked out to the people who moved sluggishly and only spoke in murmurs now.

Following Henry’s gaze, Marta nodded, and held to the bag, as she left the tent to hear Knoth’s word.

The wind stung her face when she stepped out. She shivered, and saw her breath against the black sky, but pressed forward.

The rest of the congregation huddled in their coats, and against each other, but Knoth stood before them, straight and tall. He neither shuddered nor winced at the cold. The dark circles under his eyes were all that remained of his exhaustion.

Everyone silenced when he stood before them, and it was then he spoke out at last.

“Brothers, sisters, children, open your ears and hear my word!” he cried out in the dark of the night. “I have come to you tonight to tell you that your laments have not fallen upon deaf ears! For God hears your cries, I hear your cries! You are hungry. You are scared. You are in want. You see no end in this suffering, but I assure you that your pain will not be in vain! On the eve of this new year in our Lord and Savior, I shall seek Him out and hear of His plan for us! We cannot back down now when we have come so far! Do not forget Jonah’s fate when he tried to flee from God’s will! He ran from God and the Lord used the whale to his will and devoured him! Only when Jonah accepted his fate could he travel forth, and he was used as a tool for greatness! He saved the Ninevans from their own wickedness, and we too shall be granted glory! We have wandered the wilderness long enough and the promise land is within our reach! It is in our right as God’s children, so stand with me! Hold fast! Be strong! We are God’s chosen few and shall inherit this broken earth!”

He struggled to catch his breath when he finished speaking, but his flock cried out their praises for his conviction. If there were any who doubted the prophet’s words, they would not be seen over the joyous cries and prayers.

Many came to embrace Knoth and offer prayers of goodwill, while others pleaded for him not to abandon them in their darkest hour. 

Knoth assured those with fear in their hearts that he loved them each, just as God loved all the creatures made by His hand. A love beyond what humanity had to offer: so essential that he would simply cease to be if not for them.

As the people clamored over each other to bid their farewells, Marta waited on. She neither complained nor protested as they caused the prophet to delay his trek, but when Knoth finally escaped their tears and entreaties, Marta ran after him.

“Father Knoth!”

Knoth stopped and turned to her. Rather than one of the comforting smiles he offered the testament, he looked upon her in concern. “Marta? Is everything alright?”

She took a moment to catch her breath, before holding out the sack to him, the loaf of bread peeking out. “Please...won’t you take at least a little food?”

He stared blankly at her. “That food is for the testament. God will provide for me. You use this to provide for yourself while I am away.”

“But how long will you be gone?” Desperation strained her voice.

“I do not know. For Moses went to the mountain for 40 days before receiving the Lord’s word. God sustained him even then, did he not?”

Marta nodded. “He did.”

“Then hold fast in your faith, and the rewards shall be great. Though we know not the way, that does not mean one does not exist. God has a plan for us. I am only to find out what it is.”

“I know, but...I’m still worried.”

“That is Satan planting the seed of doubt in your heart. You must ask the Lord to rid you of it so you can tend to His garden of truth and drown out the enemy’s word.”

Marta’s head hung low. “Yes, Father.”

“And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

Knoth knelt down so he could meet Marta’s gaze and looked her in the eye. He gripped her shoulders and his expression became grave. “As much as I wish to, I cannot lie and say that this will be easy for either of us. The congregation grows restless and this will be their ultimate test of faith. I do not know how many will meet the Lord’s challenge, but I know you will. That is why I must ask that you stand by the deacons in this time. Aid them as best you can through this hard time. Prove your faith.”

Marta frowned. “But my faith has wavered. I’m not worthy of this task, Father.”

“But you are! Even in temptation’s wake, you stayed on. You’ve proven yourself stronger than self pity and empty promises and for that God will forgive you. I forgive you.” His grip tightened slightly. “So promise me this.”

“Only if you promise something in return,” Marta said, after an initial hesitation.

“What is it?”

“Promise that you’ll come back.”

At last, Knoth smiled. “Yes, of course.”

“No matter what.” Marta’s gaze bordered on harsh, and her eyes narrowed. “Even if God abandons us, you have to come back.”

“I will.”

At the seriousness in Knoth’s tone, Marta’s voice softened. “Then I will do as you say. I do not know how, but I will do my best.”

Knoth sighed in relief. “Thank you, child. I will as well.” He let go and stood. “Goodbye, Marta, and God bless.”

“God bless you, Father Knoth.”

He turned from her then, and journeyed into the darkness.


	8. January 14, 1969

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter before the last stretch!

The days that followed blurred together with the tasks that Marta drowned herself in. One day she would join the women to mend clothes until her fingertips bled and they sent her away. Another day, she learned how to make rabbit traps from the men, but never stayed to see the meager rewards. Most of the time, she would inquire with Henry about what needed to be done to sustain the testament, and she would act in his stead. He had to beg her to take rest at the end of the day. She would comply and retire, but seldom did she sleep.

Closing her eyes only brought images of a God that abandoned their prophet, left him to wither away in the darkness, and the testament to wander into their own damnation.

Though keeping her eyes open was a chore, it was only when she forced herself to do so that the images vanished, and she dragged herself out of the tent. Even through her aching feet, she managed a slight smile. The cool, winter air was much fresher than the stuffy tent. The smoldering embers in the firepit offered enough warmth to make up for the lack of protection from the elements.

For the first few minutes, warming her hands over the fire served well enough to settle her, but then she turned her head to the mountain. 

The cliffs leading up the peak were steep and jagged, sharp enough to cut deep at the slightest misstep. The tip of the mountain towered high above the surrounding hills and cliffs and the wind blew strongest in that direction.

She tore her gaze away from the mountain and returned it to the fire, but only a few moments passed before she looked to the mountain again. She searched for a light, listened for a cry. Any sign of life would do, but no matter how carefully she listened, there was nothing but the crackling of the embers to fill the space.

She shook her head and started back towards her tent, when she nearly tripped over one of the lanterns. At first, she scowled at whoever thought it wise to leave the light out in the open, but then looked back at the mountain yet again.

After swallowing a lump in her throat, Marta snatched the lantern and lit it so hurriedly that she nearly singed her bandaged fingers, but she didn’t blink an eye, and hurried from the camp, lantern in hand. 

Only when she left the site did she slow to a walk. Around their homebase, the lanterns served well to guide their way, but outside their borders, the darkness was too vast. The light only cast a small circle around her, forcing her to look down at her feet with each step, just to see where she went.

The moon was gone from the sky, and the stars were not bright enough to make up for its absence. With her vision limited, Marta focused on the sounds to guide her, and froze.

The first thing she heard was the coyote’s howl. It sounded distant, but not enough to stop Marta from shuddering. Then came the hooting of an owl. With it came chirps and coos from other nightbirds, but none as loud as that hoot--like a ghost howling in the night, but even that was overpowered by the growling in her stomach. It came with a pain that made her double over. She fell to her knees and it was impossible to get back up. Her eyelids, her limbs, everything was too heavy a burden to go any further.

When she awoke, it wasn’t the stars that she saw, but the roof of one of the larger tents. She lied underneath a pile of blankets and atop a stiff cot. Sitting up, she groaned first from the throbbing in her head. Rubbing the source of the pain revealed a lump on the side of her head.

Next, she looked to the small table at the bedside. On it, sat a large glass of a water, a pack of saltine crackers and a large thermos. She took the glass first and gulped the water down, but it only brought back the sharp pains in her stomach that worsened with each passing day. Her eyes drifted back to the thermos and frowned.

Even so, she took it and peeked inside to see a soup made from general store broth and the rabbit meat the men had gathered on their few lucky days of hunting. She stared for nearly a full minute, then set it back down on the table.

She laid back down and turned on her side so the food was out of her sight. She brought her knees to her chest and held herself like that, but the tears still bubbled at the corners of her eyes.

Once more, she looked back to the thermos. 

“Lord, please forgive me,” she uttered, as she sat up and snatched it.


	9. January 28, 1969

By the light of day, Marta departed from the camp. None accompanied her, as they lamented of their hunger and want. Thus, it was only the gospel that she brought with her, as she set forth to the foot of the mountain once more.

The sun drove the wildlife into hiding, with the whistles of the wind as the only sounds that day. The gusts beat at her back, pushing her forward. They allowed her to walk briskly and with little effort, but she froze when she spotted a figure in the distance.

Going against the wind, it hunched over, struggling with each step. Its gait and distorted form suggested a creature, but as it came closer, it shaped into something human. Only it was too lacking in form to keep itself upright. Still, it continued to walk towards her, until a voice called out.

“Marta!? Marta, my child, is that you!?”

“Father Knoth!” 

She dropped the gospel and ran to him, but froze when she met him face to face.

Skin hung from him as if it were a size too large. His skin had blanched except his fingers that were tinted blue. One hand held the blanket over his shoulders, while the other cling to the hunting knife, red with blood. The same red that trickled from an empty eye socket.

“Father…” Marta recoiled as she gazed upon him. “What have you done to yourself?”

He fell to his knees, wheezing as he struggled to catch his breath. 

“...Father?” She reached out to him and he seized her hand in both of his. He gripped with strength he shouldn’t have had and an iciness that made Marta shudder. Still, she stood straight and tall and looked him in the eye.

“I have seen God!” Though he looked right at her, he cried out as if he were lost and alone on that mountain still.

Despite her efforts, Marta could neither smile nor respond. She only stared into the empty socket. From it spilled water and blood, like that of the wound in the side of Jesus Christ when the Romans pierced his side.

Tears bubbled in her own eyes, and her breathing staggered.

“Child, what’s wrong?” Knoth asked. His remaining eye grew wide and his hold on her hand tightened. “For the Lord has answered our prayers. We are in his care now. There is no need for us to weep any longer.”

Still, she wept.

Knoth embraced her then. Being reduced to so little made his hold sharp and uncomfortable, and the mountain air chilled him enough to make Marta shiver.

Even so, she hugged him back.

They stayed that way until there were no more tears left to shed. Even then, letting go came with a great hesitation.

"We...should go back,” Marta choked out, her voice hoarse.

“Yes, there is much good news to tell.” Knoth forced himself to stand back up. His bones creaked as he stood, and he was only able to take two steps forward before he held out a trembling hand. “Help me along, would you, child?” 

“Yes, Father.” Marta took his hand, holding tightly when he failed to do the same.

The wind blew so strongly that they had to squint to keep sand and dust from getting in their eyes. It also caused Knoth to stagger in his steps, but Marta held tight enough for him to keep his balance. Several times, they halted in their journey so Knoth could rest. He would struggle for breath, and groan when forced to continue, but they pressed forward long enough to reach the campsite.

Yet when the people laid eyes on him, there was no rejoicing nor welcome. Only stares widened stares and a silence that went on too long. 

Knoth said nothing neither. He was too busy catching his breath, unable to look at his people until Marta tugged on his hand. Only then did he lift his weary head to face the testament.

“Our prophet has returned,” Marta said on his behalf, when he could not find the words, but Knoth only stared past them, as if they were strangers.

It took Friedmann approaching him for Knoth to speak.

“Your eye…” The doctor only looked at the empty socket. “How…?”

Knoth gripped his shoulders, his bony fingers sharp to the touch. “It is the price to pay for the true vision.”

“What true vision?” Friedmann echoed.

Knoth let go. He wandered into the crowd, as if he were a lost child. When he did speak again, it wasn’t with a strong voice, but one that others strained to hear, as if speaking to himself, rather than the masses.

“That of Temple Gate,” he uttered.

“What is Temple Gate?” Henry asked from the crowd when Knoth would not continue.

“Our promised land!” Knoth cried out so loudly that many of the testament recoiled, but he went on without regard. “It is where we shall find sanctuary from this wicked world and prepare for our fight against the enemy!”

His words hung in the air, and Henry had to reach out to him again.

“What enemy?”

Knoth stopped in his wandering. With a shaking hand, he covered the eye he left intact. He took a deep breath, then spoke at last. “The enemy that shall be born of our flock.”

Murmurs erupted amongst the people, but Knoth silenced them before they continued. “Now, now children. The enemy has not descended upon us yet! For the Lord has granted me vision of the future through this sacrifice! I have seen our Promised Land and I have seen all your faces there! It is through our hands that Temple Gate shall rise. For your hearts are good and your faith is strong, but even in this glad news, we must not forget that our enemy is a malicious and relentless! He will stop at nothing to shake our foundation! Even if it means planting his seed into one of our own!”

Again, the murmurs spread through the crowd, but Knoth continued to drown them out.

“But fear not! For the Lord is on our side! He has given us warning of this threat, and as long as He is on our side, then nothing can overtake us! So hold strong, and we shall not fail!” He took a breath and opened his mouth to speak on, but nothing else came out. His widened eye glazed over and he reached out for his people, but it was only Marta who ran to him.

“Father Knoth!” She weaved through the crowds, shoving when she had to. She ran as fast as she could.

By the time she reached him, he had collapsed at her feet.


	10. February 2, 1969

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the final chapter, it's time I offered my sincerest thanks to LePetitPapillion who endured beta reading every single chapter of this <3 This fic wouldn't be what it is without her!

No longer did Marta pay heed to the stares and whispers that came her way each day since the prophet’s return. With her head held high and a tray of food in hand, she walked past them until she reached Knoth’s tent--a place now forbidden to all others.

“Father Knoth? It’s Marta. May I come in?”

Like every other day, Knoth’s answer came with the same delay, and the same question. “Are you alone?”

Marta looked over her shoulder to meet the gazes of the testament. None said anything, but they all awaited the same answer, but Marta only shook her head in response. A collective sigh came from them all, and Marta returned her attention to the tent. “Yes, Father. It is only me.”

“Then you may enter.”

She stepped inside and beneath her foot was a sheet of paper. It was just one of dozens scattered across the floor, covered with jagged writing, sketches, and unknown measurements. She tiptoed around the litter until she reached the cot that Knoth sat up in for the first time in days.

During those first few days, he was too weak to sit up or even eat without help, but now he held a up a notebook and wrote in it with a swollen hand. “You can leave the tray on the table,” he said, without even looking up at her.

Marta set the meal on the bedside table, but lingered. As Knoth scrawled in his notebook, she knelt down to pick up one of the papers from the ground. On it was a messy sketch of a chapel. The roof slanted on both sides so it was shaped like an “A”. Before it stood three pillars and to the side were lists of measurements written deep enough to tear the paper. She looked back up at Knoth, then the sketch, before stepping forward. “Father Knoth?”

“Yes, my child?”

“What is this?” she asked, holding out the sketch.

He looked up for only a moment before returning to his work. “That is to be our place of worship,” 

“In Temple Gate?”

Knoth nodded. “Yes, in Temple Gate…” he uttered the name as if it were born from a foreign tongue. “The three pillars are to represent the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. The foundation for our promised land.”

Marta observed him as he spoke.

No longer did his skin hang so loosely. His face regained much of its shape and color, save for the dark circles that had yet to subside. Then there was the eye that remained. It shone brighter than ever as it focussed on the writing.

“Is there something you need?” he asked when she stared too long.

Her eyes drifted to the floor and the other sheets of paper with their childish scrawl and gibberish. “Do you mind if I look at the rest?”

“If you so wish,” he replied, turning the page.

Marta reached for another sheet of paper. This one was map of the western United States. The edges of the page were uneven, as if it were ripped from a book. In the state of Arizona was a circle around the name “Havasupai”, and at the side written, “Temple Gate”.

“Is this where we are to travel?” Marta asked. “Havasupai, Arizona?”

“Yes. It is where the Lord made known to me the dimensions and form of Temple Gate.”

“Why there?”

“Because it will provide for us all we need to thrive.”

“But...isn’t Arizona mostly desert?” 

“It is, but we shall be as an oasis in that desert.”

His voice was shorter than usual, so Marta let it drop and picked up another paper. She observed the images and words on each sheet, gathering them into a neat stack as she cleared them from the floor. After a half hour, she picked up the last piece. On it was drawn a familiar cross, but surrounded by branches and thorns, as if it were restrained.

"Our emblem,” Knoth said, as if he could see beyond his own writing. “To set us apart from the wicked world who believes in a lie.”

“Did the Lord show you this symbol on the mountain?”

“It is that of the spider-eyed lamb--the harbinger of judgement.”

“Must we await judgement still? Even after we have followed his word precisely?”

“Yes, for following the way of Christ is not that which can be taken lightly. The world would have you believe that you may declare your faith in the Lord and he will never ask anything more of you, but that’s a filthy lie spread by the Devil’s own.” Knoth winced. “The trials and tribulations remain. The Lord is by our side in the battlefield, but there are still enemies who would see us perish. We must ready ourselves before the seed is planted among our flock.”

“You mentioned that once before--that the enemy shall be of our seed. What did you mean by that?”

Knoth lowered the notebook at last. For a time, he gazed at her, before trading the book for the stack of papers. “I think it is best if you see for yourself.”

When Marta opened the notebook, she gasped. Atop the page was written: The Gospel of Knoth-Chapter 11. Several chapters beyond the seven chapters of their teachings.

“Father Knoth!” Marta slammed the book shut. “D...Does anyone else know of this?”

“Our ways are evolving,” Knoth said normally, his expression unchanged. “It is only natural that it be made known in our gospel.”

“Yes, I understand, but...do the deacons know? Shouldn’t they be seeing this first?”

“In due time, they will.”

“Then I am not fit to look upon this.” She held the book towards Knoth. “Not before the deacons…”

Knoth pushed the notebook back to her. “But it is, my child.” He smiled softly. “I must confess that during this time, I have come to think of you as my own. You have held strong when others have faltered and proven your faith time and time again. For that, I can think of none other to receive my word above all others.”

Her head hung low as she spoke, but still she muttered, “Thank you, Father Knoth. It truly is the highest of honors.” She opened the book back to where she left off, and looked up to him.

“Read it aloud for me, will you? I want to hear how it sounds.”

“Yes, Father Knoth.” Marta cleared her throat. “Verse 1: The fruit of destruction shall ripen with the foul womb of the martyred mother, the spider-eyed lamb shall bring judgement of the lesser whore onto even the great whore who sitteth upon many waters. Verse 2: For from Ezekiel’s nation the Enemy shall be born.” She paused, looking up at Knoth. “The Enemy shall be born of one of our women? Like a child?”

“Precisely.”

“But why take on a vessel so powerless?” 

“Is there any form more deceptive? Who would suspect the sleeping babe of being our undoing? Such deception gives the Enemy power over us.”

“But how would one deal with such an Enemy?”

“Keep reading.”

She nodded. “Verse 3: And then shall the wicked be revealed, whom the Lord shall consume with the spirit of his mouth, and shall destroy with the brightness of his coming. Verse 4: Even him, whose coming is after the working of Satan with all power and signs and lying wonders.” Marta frowned. “So the enemy must be vanquished before our Lord’s coming…”

“And you need not fear that. For the Lord only presents us with challenges that he knows we can overcome.” He assured at first, but his tone became short with the last two words. “Keep reading.”

“Verse 5…” Marta’s voice sank. “And with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish because they recieveth not the love of the truth, that they might be saved. Verse 6: And for this cause God shall send them strong delusions that they should believe a lie.” Her brow furrowed. “But Father...if there are to be deceptions, how shall we know that we are not the ones being deceived?”

“Keep reading,” Knoth snapped.

“Yes, Father,” she murmured. “Verse 8: And Ezekiel said unto his midwives, and his hunters: you are the raven and I am the wolf , who will allow you to feed if you lead me to the slaughter. Verse 9: For God has said the flesh of beast is yours only in sacrifice to me…” Marta’s eyes grew wide when she looked upon the final words. “Even unto the flesh of your offspring.” She barely spoke above a whisper, and shut the book after the passage. “This can’t mean what I think it does, can it?”

“I thought the very same when He first made known to me the Enemy’s true nature.” Knoth stared at nothing in particular. “But as I meditated on His word, I began to understand. For the Lord offered up his own Son to save us from our wickedness, but mankind wasted his lovingkindness by twisting his teachings beyond recognition.” His hands clenched into fists and his brow furrowed. “Only we can see the truth. That is why it is placed upon our flock to set things right-by matching His own sacrifice to save us from Hell everlasting.”

Marta’s eyes drifted back to the book. “But we are only flesh and blood while the Lord is most holy. How can we be expected to match such a sacrifice?”

“It is not a matter of can or cannot. It is simply what must come to be. God will ask of us impossible sacrifices, but in turn the rewards shall be greater than we can imagine.” A trace of a smile came to him. “All He asks for is our faith to carry out his word. If we just hold to that, then all things are possible.”

No longer did Knoth speak to Marta. She was only a witness to his mutterings, and she didn’t stay to listen to anymore. If he called after her departure, she did not hear. She left the tent, without a word.

The testament awaited outside, but she walked past them too, ignoring their barrage of questions. Only when she was out of earshot from the camp did she stop. 

Once more, she looked upon that mountain top. It towered higher than ever and its shadow cast over the valley. Somewhere on its peak lied an eye cast aside for the truth, cut out in the darkest night, in the freezing cold, a time when death should have been the only escape, yet it was just the eye that rotted and festered in that desolate place, too vile for even the lowest of beasts to devour.

Marta sat atop the earth. She continued to stare at that mountaintop, but there was only silence.


End file.
